


Remember Me Amongst These Forgotten Things

by This_Basic_Witch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Exploring, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Meanwhile Lavellan is oblivious, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, TFW when you want to kiss someone but your self loathing won't allow it, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, pining blackwall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Basic_Witch/pseuds/This_Basic_Witch
Summary: Blackwall loves seeing Arielle Lavellan in her element: excavating dusty old ruins. But after one of their explorations goes awry his true feelings for her become even harder to hide.
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Lavellan, Blackwall/Inquisitor
Kudos: 13





	Remember Me Amongst These Forgotten Things

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure yet if this is canon to my long fic The Light That Binds Us. But I do love these two together, so will probably be writing more little stories with these two in the future. In the meantime, if you want to read more about Arielle you can check out that fic in my works.

“Could you give me a leg up?”

“You what?”

Blackwall turned his gaze from the ominously dark passage ahead to find Arielle pointing up at a ten-foot statue smothered in vines. A sliver of moonlight spilled through a crack in the derelict ceiling, glinting off something gold cupped in the decaying idol’s hands. The evening had come and gone since they’d stumbled upon this little, lost temple if that’s indeed what it was. The others were probably debating sending out a search party right at that moment…

‘It’s been driving me mad since we got in here,’ she reached up futilely, the silver light illuminating nails chipped and chiselled from her explorations along cliffs sides and into tight corners. He looked down at the open pack at her feet which was nearly overflowing with all the artefacts she’d already looted from this place. No, not looted, she hated that word. ‘Excavated’, he remembered her calling it that once or twice. He was trying to find the most tactful way of saying she’d probably already gathered more than she could comfortably carry when she turned to face him, the moon illuminating the insatiable curiosity in her captivating sea-green eyes that took hold of her whenever in the presence of something new. He sighed.

“As you wish, my lady. But do be careful.”

“When am I not?” she grinned.

He placed his torch in the nearest rusty holder and knelt before her, hands knitted together in a tight cradle. She carefully placed her foot in it, eyes fixed on the prize. When she nodded he lifted her up to the statue’s pitted chest. After a couple of tense moments, her spare foot found a suitable dent and she latched her hands on either side of its vine-covered shoulders. Her other foot left his hand to rest in a knot of ivy, parallel to his face. He’d seen her scale mountainsides three times higher than this like an August Ram without a hint of fear, but still, his freed hands hovered near her. The green glow of her left hand highlighted the artefact as she braced herself, then reached for it.

A screech tore through the dark passage ahead.

Blackwall’s hand instinctively went for the sword strapped to his waist, where it was glued by a shot of web. In his haste to grab the next nearest weapon, the torch, he knocked Ari’s legs out from under her. Her squeal of surprise mixed with the cry of the gigantic spider that finally came into view. Its many legs skittered to a halt as he thrust the fire towards its hideous face. The light wheeled around the cavern as he blocked its every advance, yelling and kicking at the creature to keep its attention from the Inquisitor, who was dangling from the statue’s outstretched arm. But the spider now had him backed right up against the wall, and the blighter was smarter than it looked. As he contemplated just setting the thing on fire another string of web grabbed the torch handle and threw it across the room.

The creature lunged at him with a triumphant and ravenous screech.

Blackwall closed his eyes, but no pain came. He opened them to find the spider’s fangs mere centimetres from his face, frozen solid, the foul venom that dripped from them now icicles. He looked up at Arielle. She still gripped the statue’s wrist, but her other hand pointed down at the beast, mist curling around her fingers. He pushed the spider off, its ice entombed body falling to the floor with a crack. Ari fell feet first right onto its exposed belly. It crumbled under her weight, frozen fragments of flesh glistening like black ice in the moonlight.

“I. Hate. These. Things!” she spat as she stamped on its head repeatedly for good measure.

“My thoughts exactly,” Blackwall chuckled with relief. “Maker’s Balls that was a close one. Are you alright?”

“Am _I_ alright? You were the one who was about to get their head chomped off,” Ari shook her head and muttered some Elven curses under her breath as she rummaged in her bag. Blackwall brought the torch back (luckily it had landed far from anything that could catch flame) and slotted it into the nearest holder, illuminating the slightly squashed bunches of elfroot they’d been helping the scouts gather among the trinkets she’d found in their exploration of the ruin. “I’m so sorry, Blackwall. I shouldn’t have dragged you down here. Not only have I distracted you from your duty but I put you in danger and-”

“My duty is to serve you, and I’m no stranger to danger. Besides, this far more interesting than picking herbs,” without thinking he put a gentle hand on the shoulder. He expected her to brush it off, maybe even direct one of those Dalish curses at him for being so forward. But all she did was smile sweetly and motioned for him to crouch next to her.

“Hold still,” she pulled out the small knife she’d been looking for and began to saw through the web. Her head was so close to his own her strawberry blonde hair tickled his cheek. He couldn’t put a finger on its exact scent, only that it was…warm, and sweet. No, there was no time for him to savour this moment. After that spider, he needed to remain vigilant.

“I’m…sorry you didn’t reach that…whatever it is up there,” he cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on all the corners the torchlight didn’t touch, on anywhere but her.

“Don’t be, I can get it in the morning,” her breezy tone barely hid her disappointment. “There, you’re free.”

He eyed the statue’s hand as he brushed the last of the webbing from his own. There was now a deep crack around its wrist. If he hit it just right maybe he could…

“Stand back, my lady,” he stood and raised his sword. With all the strength he could muster he leapt up and struck the vulnerable stone.

The hand fell to the floor with a deafening thud.

“Blackwall!” Arielle gasped. “Now every creature in here knows where we are,” she scolded as she eagerly pried her prize out of its grip.

“Well, the mystery was killing me too,” he smiled. “So, what is it?”

Arielle held up a threadbare pouch. A few coins and an earring poured out of a hole in it, coins marked with decay and rust.

“Oh…I’m sor-”

“It’s a bandit’s secret stash!” she gushed as she tipped out the rest of the contents of the pouch and began examining it. “At, least that’s my first thought. I wonder why he, or she, hid it here, and why…”

This is what had tethered him to her, that endless sense of wonder at the world. Being around her when she was like this was like being reborn, like seeing through new eyes and breathing with fresh lungs.

“Take as much of the money as you want,” she gestured at the small heap of coins she’d just finished sorting from those too damaged to be used anymore.

“What?”

“I know it’s not much but-”

“I don’t need to be compensated.”

“It’s only fair, you got it down, and nearly got a very nasty spider bite for your trouble,” she said as she held a tangled necklace with a deep blue pendant up to the dull light.

“Yes, but…”

He didn’t deserve it. Every little act of kindness she offered to him so casually was another needle sunk into his heart. And she’d turned it into a bloody pincushion over the last few months. What was worse was despite all of this he still longed for more. Any shred of attention she gave him made him walk just that bit lighter, hold his head a little higher. It was pathetic really, to revel so much in the pleasure and pain of being around someone he couldn’t be with.

“But what?” Arielle frowned up at him, confused. He shamefully shifted his gaze back to those dark corners.

“Gordon, what’s wrong?” she asked softly. He hadn’t realised he’d balled his hands into fists until she tentatively unfurled one of them. Forget the pins, this was a bloody sword shoved right through his chest.

“You…remember my first name?” he finally managed, squeezing her delicate hand in his own. He tried to tell himself it was an act of reassurance for her, and not another feeble attempt to take advantage of her closeness, of her trust.

“Of course. Do you remember mine?” she awkwardly joked, squeezing back and running a thumb along his palm. If only he wasn’t wearing gloves.

“Yes my la-Arielle,” he never thought a name could sound so sweet on his tongue. Ar-ri-elle.

With his last shred of dignity and a mournful sigh, he let go of her and stepped away.

“Sorry about that. I thought I saw something down that way,” he pointed to the nearest passage. “But it was just a shadow.”

“Are you sure?” her eyes followed his finger.

“Yes, I can go check to be certain, if you don’t mind me borrowing the torch,” he forced a tone of finality into his voice.

“Alright. I’ll just put all this away, then we can go,” she nodded as she slotted the loot she liked into the remaining spaces in her bag.

He washed the mouth of the tunnel in torchlight in an arbitrary display of looking around until his heart finally stilled. When he turned back to Arielle she was slinging her bag back onto her shoulders with some difficulty. He was about to ask if there was anything in it he could carry for her when something glinted in the moonlight from a crack in the tiled floor. He kneeled beneath the mutilated statue and pulled out the lone earring. The hook that would’ve gone through its owner’s ear had browned with rust, but the blue-green stone it held was as flawless as the day it was set. The light of the moon and the torch shone through it as he held it up to his eye, projecting waves onto the floor before him. Waves the colour of deep river water lush with reeds.

“Actually, may I take this?” he asked the retreating form of Arielle.

“What?” she turned around and squinted to see what he was holding. “Oh, I have the matching piece in here somewhere.”

“No, that’s fine, just this one will do.”

“What, you thinking of getting only one of your ears pierced? I thought only pirates did that,” she smiled.

“I always did like the sea. Or maybe I’ll collect some more and braid them into my beard. Give Dorian a run for his money as the most fashionable man of the Inquisition,” He pocketed the trinket and hurried along.

“I don’t think he’d consider that fashion,” Arielle giggled. “But that’s not a bad one to start off with, it’s rather pretty.”

It was the same colour as her eyes.


End file.
